


The Zeros

by Ashesofthefirststar



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Government Conspiracy, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, broody keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:16:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashesofthefirststar/pseuds/Ashesofthefirststar
Summary: Zero's are individuals born with no time on their soul watch, and even though Lance has accepted he's one of these rare few, he can't bring himself to find any happiness in the fact that he's predestined to be alone. But when he gets a mysterious message from a stranger on the bus, he'll learn the ugly truth about soul watches and maybe redefine the meaning of destiny along the way.





	The Zeros

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This was my attempt to take the soulmate idea and turn it on it's head. It's pretty short as far as first chapters go, but the next ones should be longer. Hope you enjoy.

Lance was angry at the rain. He thought Allura deserved to meet her soulmate under the golden light of a sunset, or something ridiculously romantic like that. Not at a bus stop that lingered with the stench of stubbed out cigarettes and exhaust fumes, damp and slightly shivering. But we didn't get to choose these sorts of things, did we?

 

Allura was doing that thing she did where she kept shifting her legs into different - yet all equally as graceful - positions. She was much too outwardly posh to make obtuse hand gestures or pace back and forth like Lance would do when he was nervous, like he wanted to do right now.

 

Instead, he took a breath and puts on what he hoped didn't look like a fake smile.

 

“It's alright, Allura. There's nothing to worry about.”

 

She blinked several times, and Lance tried not to notice the way rain drops drip from her lashes and onto her cheek as she did so.

 

“That's what everyone says, but this is a huge moment. One that all but the next,” she paused and looked down at her wrist, “fifty five seconds of my life have been building up too. There's a lot of expectations. I'm sure you understand.”

 

He didn't, and he never would, but still, he nodded in agreement.”

 

“Yeah, I get it. You've spent the last twenty two years knowing you'd meet your destined life partner on this day exactly.” A pause. “I mean, what if he's ugly?”

 

“Lance,” Allura gasped. She was seemingly scandalized, but the way her eyes crinkled like the foreshadowing of a laugh told a different story.

 

“What? It could happen.” A pause. “What if he likes Nickleback?”

 

Allura cupped her sputtering mouth, and Lance thought ‘ _good, she's laughing.’_

 

“Could you live with that, Allura? Could you live with the second hand embarrassment you'll feel every time he drunkenly sings Photograph at karaoke? _Could you_?”

She dabbed the corner of her eyes with the balls of her palms and shook her head as a way to say Lance is completely ridiculous in an endearing way.

 

“Every relationship requires sacrifice.”

When she leaned her head against his shoulder, Lance had to remind himself that this was good. He has to remind himself that Allura was resilient and fierce and needed nothing other than her two feet to get her through life, but that she wanted - ney - deserved more. He had to remind himself that at six years old she used her dad's computer to calculate the exact date she would meet her soulmate -back before they made apps for that sort've thing - and practiced just what she would say. (Although he highly doubted that ‘Hi, I'm Allura and I like Power Rangers and tulips,’ would still be her chosen introduction.) He had to remember that she always wanted a love like her mom and dad's, especially after they passed and she was left with a godfather as her only family. He had to remember to be happy for her.

“Thank you for being here today.”

“Of course I'm going to be here! Just remember this when you're choosing your maid of honor and what they'll wear. I look good in blue, by the way.”

The bus screeched to a stop and they both stood up. Allura looked at her wrist again.

Thirty seconds left.

This was it.

Lance told her that he'd sit separate from her as they boarded the bus. Allura was on first, hesitantly stepping forward, eyes scanning for anyone who looked as nervous as she did. Lance didn't see anyone like that though. Out of the few people on the bus, everyone was too busy staring out windows or at their phones to even look up. Which was weird, because Allura was the type of person that, when she walked into anywhere, it was an occasion. Like seeing a blood moon or something, you just had to stop in a moment of appreciation.

She walked past the first few occupied seats before she sat. Lance spared a _‘Don't worry’_ , before taking a seat closer to the back.

fifteen seconds left.

Lance had been counting.

Thirteen seconds left .

He felt a selfish pang of hope that when Alluras timer stopped, no one would be sitting beside her.

Eleven seconds left.

The driver was pulling the door shut, and Lance thought, how dare Allura's soul mate not show up.

Ten seconds left.

There was a bagging on the glass and the driver opened the door again.

Eight seconds left.

A man got onto the bus, said something to the driver - who rolled their eyes - before moving down the aisle.

Five seconds left.

He looked at every face deliberately.

Three seconds left.

They stopped on Allura, and his lips slowly lifted into a gentle smile. He had an Adidas gym bag, although you wouldn't need it to tell you he worked out. Lance even smiled a bit at that. Allura had been saying she needed a spotter for her muscle training.

Zero seconds left.

He stopped in front of Allura and said, “I'm glad to finally meet you,” and the words were so simple that they seemed almost effortlessly warm. They weren't meant to impress, but they did, if only for that reason. Lance had always envied people like that, people who were too busy being sincere to be self conscious and critical of everything they said.

The man sat down, and Lance watched them for a few more seconds. He was beautiful. Not in the ethereal way Allura was but it the way a home was beautiful, grounded and welcoming, and Lance couldn't find himself to be mad about that. If anyone deserved a stacked hand in this cosmic dealing of cards that was their lives, it was Allura.

Lance allowed himself to fidget with his own fingers. It was a reward of sorts that he promised himself. He looked down and briefly shut his eyes. They stung, but he was much too aware of everyone's presence on the bus- Allura's especially - to allow himself to cry. Besides, he was use to this. At least, he should be. He told himself long ago that he and Allura would always only be friends.

He tugged at his sleeve and brushed his thumb across the watch on his wrist. From year to seconds, there was nothing but dashes and zeros.

Yes, long ago Lance accepted that he would _always_ be just the friend.

**xXx**

Keith ran, and he hated himself a little bit for it.

But he couldn't help but to be excited for his brother, even if he abhorred everything to do with soul watches.

He blamed it on basic sympathy. It was true that Keith was disillusioned by the reality of what these soul watches were, but he knew Shiro wasn't. He knew Shiro and his subtle romanticism. He knew what today meant, and even though Keith wasn't an expert on love, he thought that was what it meant to show it, to care about something not important to you, because it was important to them.

Keith jogged up the stairs of the bus, ignoring the glare the driver gave him to look at Shiro. It wasn't as if Keith had to be here today, or went out of his way to do this. He normally took the bus around this time, but if he was being honest with himself, he could've waited around for the next one, a thought he had several times as he dodged pedestrians and puddles. Still, when he saw his brother wearing _that_ face again after all he had been through, Keith couldn't make himself regret it.

As the pair fell into an easy conversation, Keith walked towards the end of the bus with a conflict pulling at his feet. If there was one thing that Keith hated to admit about the matches brought about by soul watches, it was that they almost always ended in “happy endings” - if you were into the whole white picket fence, domestic bliss sort've thing.It wasn't like Keith was one of those spiteful zeros. No, it was that he resented the soul watch industry as a whole. He resented the lies and the manipulation that festered beneath the glittering idealism that was soul mates. He resented the fact that few knew the truth, and if he ever dared to share it, people would look at him like he'd stomped on the American flag itself. Most of the time, he resented himself for carrying so much at all.

Even when Keith was a child, old enough to understand what being a zero meant, but not to understand the complexities of soul watches, he resented them. Although, for different reasons than he did now. Some people might like the idea of destiny, might like the idea that all the bad they suffered was apart of some higher plan, but Keith didn't. He didn't need to be coddled by delusions. He was born into pain, and it was random and unfair, but it was his. His pain that he spent his life molding. No one got to take that away from him. Especially not because of the whims of some intangible force that Keith, now, knew for a fact didn't exist.

Besides, he had spent his whole life not regarding the orders of whatever new authority figure he'd have that week, so he wasn't about to let his future be dictated by some meaningless numbers projected across his wrist. No, Keith was alone because he wanted to be.

Keith sat down at the very back, and as he normally would, he took note of all the faces or any danger they might project. It was a habit, but one that kept him alive on several occasions.

On the other side of the aisle, a few seats up from his, Keith noticed a guy with sandcastle colored skin. He could only see part of the stranger from his position, but it was enough to make out the way he sadly cradled a wrist, a wrist marred with crude zeros.

Keith reflexively scooted towards the edge of his seat and looked a little closer to make sure he wasn't wrong. Zeros, or if you wanted the rose dusted, technical terminology for them, Individuals, were actually rare - though they had been gradually increasing since soul watches popped into existence one hundred years ago. So it wasn't too odd for a person to be the only zero they knew.

If Pidge was here, she'd tell him he should invite the stranger into their clan of tin foil wearing rejects. She believed in the power of networking, but mostly, she understood how lonely being a zero could be. Not because of romance - Pidge never really did care for that sort've thing, zero or not, but because she knew being a zero meant more than being alone, it meant being a minority.

You see, the government took a “firm” stance that zeros weren't bad people, but just chosen for a different destiny. They used positive phrases like ‘Free spirits’ to describe them, all while they push for subtle discrimination, allowing humans natural inclination for divisiveness to do the rest.

From movies to advertisements to children bedtime stories, there was always an undercurrent of prejudice against zeros. Zeros were always the spiteful antagonist or the anti hero who finally learned to accept their predestined place in the world, while beautiful, successful people were always the ones with ticking soul watches. They lived in a world of constant microaggressions made to remind them, even subconsciously, that they were inferior. If the existence of the derogatory term zeros wasn't enough proof, the fact that it had been reclaimed by the Individuals in a way only an oppressed group of people could do certainly was.

Meanwhile, the government got to play the part of the good guy referee that had no stake in either team, not even regarding that it was the referee who set the ball for the whole game. Keith didn't understand how more people couldn't see that, considering the fact that there were laws essentially keeping zeros from congregating. Hell, one of the more blatant pieces of legislation made it illegal for zeros to date or marry other zeros, the punishment of which wasn't prison, but forced therapy. They called it a willful act of neglect, stating that to disregard the greater powers that be was bordering on suicidal.

Bull shit. It was all just bull shit.

Keith moved back towards the window, but kept looking at the stranger in indecision. He didn't trust many people, because even though being friends with other zeros or talking disparagingly about soul watches wasn't technically illegal - yet - it was looked down upon, so you had to be careful about those sort've things. Still, because of his stance on soul watches, Keith knew more zeros than most. Some of them lived up to their stereotypes and some didn't, but never had he met a zero who seemed so consciously sad about being a zero. Angry, cheated, bitter, yes, but sad was just about as rare as zeros themselves, because the one good thing about being a zero was that you lived your whole life that way. From the time you're a child and can understand the concept, your spoon fed the idea that this was just the way things were. It was hard to be sad about a possibility you never had to begin with.

Keith was a curious person if nothing else, and Pidge was right about their need to expand, but if he was going to do this, it would be his way.

As he approached his stop, he took out a pen and a notebook from his backpack. He quickly scrawled down a message before folding up the piece of paper. The bus stopped and Keith stood to sling his backpack over his shoulder. He dropped the note on the stranger's lap as he moved towards the exit, not even taking the time to get a good look at the man's face.

The test was set and now he had to wait for the results. It wasn't exactly the scientific method he was working with here, but he thought Pidge would be proud of him nonetheless.


End file.
